The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore
by WaitingForTheWorldToChange
Summary: Finchel Oneshot.  Takes place post 2x10. "And it doesn't mean I've given up on us, either.  Because I won't.  Not now, not ever."


_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Glee or profit from it in any way.

_a/n: _Hey everyone, here with my second attempt at a Glee fic. It's another F/R oneshot, and like almost every other writer on this site, I've chosen to delve into the minds of both Finn and Rachel following their very dramatic (and might I add very unnecessary) breakup. I've written this in third person but kinda first person-ish (if that makes any sense?). Anyway, it pretty much started out as my own form of therapy since I totally wasn't expecting a falling out so early in the season (note to self: Ryan Murphy is like opposite day; say one thing and mean another). It kind of evolved into a lot more story than I'd initially intended, but I tend to ramble on from time to time (see embarrassingly long author's note), so I'm sorry if it's a bit too dragged out or not enough F/R interaction. I just find their own individual thoughts so deliciously fun to write that I sometimes forget how awesome they are together. Oh, the song is called "The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore" by James Morrison, so if you haven't already, go listen to it! It's pretty amazing! Alright, enough of this. Here it is, and PLEASE leave a review so I know what you guys think. I'll only cry a little if you hate it (kidding.. sort of).

**THE PIECES DON'T FIT ANYMORE**

_I've been twisting and turning,  
In a space that's too small.  
I've been drawing the line and watching it fall,  
You've been closing me in, closing the space in my heart.  
Watching us fading and watching it all fall apart._

He's not sure he can pinpoint the moment when everything started to change – when _he_ started to change.

The last year and a half has kind of been a whirlwind, but he thinks it was probably around this time last year, right when the whole BabyGate disaster had (finally and with virtually no thanks to the glee club) been revealed. It's kinda pathetic to think that with all the "friends" he supposedly has, only one had the balls to actually spill the beans about his girlfriend and best friend doing the horizontal cha-cha (not that Rachel's got a penis 'cause she's a girl and all). But that's beside the point. The point _is_ that with all the obvious changes going on in his life these past few months, he's never really taken the time to sit down and – what's that word that sounds like 'butt' and 'eyes' strung together? – oh, _analyze_! He's never really analyzed what all these changes mean about himself.

'Cause, the thing is, he'd like to think that it's not just circumstances and other people in his life that are different. He'd like to think that maybe _he's_ changed a little as well. Maybe even grown a bit from all the crazy shit he's been through. Sometimes, when he reflects on everything that's gone down since last year, he has trouble remembering what his life was like before Mr. Schue blackmailed him into joining the glee club (a little detective work helped him figure out that one… and _maybe_ Rachel).

Whereas last year he would've laughed at the idea of crying over a girl just 'cause she made out with some other guy (his twice removed ex-best friend to be exact), now even the sight of her makes him want to hide in his bed with nothing but a pint of Ben & Jerry's to make him forget everything (he's like, a total girl these days and he can't even muster up the energy to care).

She'd tried giving him a Christmas gift, playing it off like it was just because she knows how much he loves the holidays (he knows her too well to look past the scheming and longing in her hopeful eyes). She's Jewish, and he guesses it's sort of a big deal or whatever, but he still feels like complete road kill. He tells her how much she's messed him up. Why can't she see that? Why doesn't she understand that going through this once was torture but having to suffer through this crap again (and because of _her_) is like stabbing a giant fucking knife through his already bleeding heart? It's not like he can just _choose_ to forgive and forget.

He's pretty sure he'll _never_ forget, even if he's somehow able to forgive.

It's funny how similar and yet different he feels between this time and the last. With Quinn, it had felt sorta like a shitty ending to some book, but one that you can eventually accept because you realize it's the only way for something even better (and louder and _way too_ dramatic but also completely adorable) to come along. But with _her_ it's like the author of the book forgot who the characters were to begin with and just stopped caring at all (the author of _their_ book really sucks, he decides).

* * *

He's been trying super hard to figure out everything lately. So hard, that sometimes, he's afraid his brain might like, just fall right out of his head. He actually brings it up to his mom at dinner one night, and she says he should stop internalizing all of his pain (he decides it's best to just say nothing from now on).

Maybe he should just stop caring about anything anymore (it would probably hurt a lot less if he did).

"Sweetie, why don't you call up one of your friends from glee? Maybe go visit Kurt up at school?" His mother suggests during one of the last days of winter break. Her words barely register in his head as he robotically shakes his head 'no'.

Maybe he already has.

* * *

"Finn, be honest, does this color blend in too much with my skin?"

Why do people insist on asking him stupid questions about stupid things that he's probably too stupid himself to answer? Like Puck with his asinine mission to torture those weaker than him ("Slushie filled balloons is a fucking badass idea, huh?"). Or Quinn with her prissy and _totally prudish_ chastity ball ("You don't think it'll look bad if my dress is off-white instead of pure white, do you?"; fucking irony if he ever saw it). Or even Rachel, who'd never given his – or anyone else's for that matter – ears a rest from describing in excruciating detail the years leading up to her first Tony award ("Twenty-five seems quite a practical age given the fact that I'll want to attend a proper four-year university before sharing my talent with the rest of the world, don't you think?").

Seriously, do people think he's like, the fucking magic mirror from Snow White who'll just tell them what they want to hear? 'Cause most of the time, he gets the feeling they don't really give a flying fuck what he actually thinks. They just need someone to shake their head in agreement.

He's kind of fucking sick of it – of all of it (all of them, for that matter).

"Uh, yeah, dude. Looks great." His voice holds no interest, but he doesn't really care. Kurt rolls his eyes in frustration, mumbling a few words Finn can't understand. Whatever. If he's being honest, that damn creamy scarf material kinda reminds him of the blonde tool from Scooby Doo. The look of irritation on his step-brother's pale face is enough to keep him from saying so though. Better to say nothing than to insult him. Kurt can be quite testy when it comes to clothes.

Excuse him for being straight. Jeez, hasn't Kurt heard about a little thing called racism? It works both ways.

"Well, you are certainly no substitution for Mercedes when it comes to the trials and errors of fashion." He raises his eyebrows in disapproval. "Although, look who you're dat-"

_Awesome. Just. Fucking. Awesome._

Of all the people to throw that in his face – to blurt it out so carelessly like it doesn't have the power to shatter him into a billion little pieces of himself – he cannot believe that it's Kurt. By the look on the other boy's face, Finn knows he's feeling all sorts of awful right now and that it probably slipped out accidently. But he still said it and not meaning to say it doesn't make it hurt any less (he's waiting for the day when it finally will).

"Finn, I didn't mean anything by it – "

He holds up his hand to silence Kurt as he opens the door to leave. "Funny. She said the same thing."

People should really just learn to leave him the hell alone.

* * *

She can pinpoint the exact moment everything started to change – specifically, when _she_ started to change (she attributes this to her keen attentiveness to even the slightest of details).

From the minute Mr. Schuester had replaced that despicable Sandy Ryerson as director of glee club (and thank heavens because even she couldn't find the appropriate vocabulary to articulate just how abysmal the "team" had been), Rachel had been thrust into her rightful role as the club's hot female lead. And really, at first, nothing had changed. She'd still received her daily facial slushies, endured constant taunting and jabs in regards to her wardrobe selection (she quite likes her knee high socks and penny loafers, thank you very much), and spent her lunch period in the auditorium perfecting the speech she would one day give when she received her first Tony award (one can _never_ be overly prepared).

But then, during one of their very first rehearsals under Mr. Schuester's guidance, _everything_ had changed. _He'd _shown up with no warning – his crooked smile that had the power to melt her fragile heart and his soft (and yes, occasionally sharp but only because he lacked her years of training) baritone voice that caused her knees to buckle slightly.

And though it had been evident he'd join their small family of outcasts against his own will, something in his eyes spoke to her as if pleading with her to rescue him from transforming into someone he'd never intended on becoming. Perhaps it was partly her own delusional imagination that had conjured up this (incredibly romantic, might she add) scenario, but the moment the thought entered her head, she'd become a woman on a mission. She would save Finn Hudson, McKinley High's golden boy, from the wrath of his chromosomally challenged peers. He would have no choice but to appreciate what a stunning young ingénue she was, become enraptured with her indisputable talent and beauty (she may be no Quinn Fabray but she liked to think she resembled something of a young Barbra), and profess his enduring adoration and commitment to her (he really was quite the gentleman).

It's funny (in a sad/pathetic/disappointing/predictable kind of way that's actually anything _but_ comical) how life works though. Because despite the countless times she's envisioned the breathtaking story she'll tell to their future children one day (two girls and two boys raised within the Jewish faith, obviously), she's come to accept that their history has been anything but _easy_ or _wildly idealistic._

In fact, if she's being completely honest with herself (she's painfully honest with others, so she _knows_ it must be true), her relationship with Finn has been heart wrenchingly difficult and at times, somewhat of a letdown. She's not sure if it has more to do with herself (because she's well aware of her egotistical need to be the center of attention and the arrogance with which she is known to carry herself) or if most of their issues stem from his inability to fully accept her for who she is (the good and the bad because there is definitely a lot of bad).

Before she'd – and with _Noah _– Rachel had fully deluded herself into believing hers and Finn's romance was one for the ages (as her biographers would one day write). Before, she hadn't known any better because she'd _wanted_ it to be true (but it wasn't – _isn't_) so badly that she'd ignored any and all warning signs that indicated otherwise. She'd thought what they shared had been impervious to the juvenile trifles of everyday teen adolescence (jealousy, insecurities, and the real world didn't stand a chance against their love).

She'd been wrong.

God, _had_ she been wrong.

* * *

It's really quite difficult being her (_unbearable_ at times, even).

She's chosen a difficult path, she's well aware, filled with grueling auditions, pressure to perform flawlessly in front of thousands, and the incessant (but quite essential if she is to remain relevant in the public eye) paparazzi who will undoubtedly provoke her, thus forcing her to attack. She'd come to terms with the obvious sacrifices she'll have to make a long time ago. But despite her understanding and eagerness to adhere to these certain stipulations, she never fathomed that the price of becoming a star would define the entirety of her high school career.

Because as much as she fully intends on receiving her first Tony award by the time her biological clock hits twenty-five, she doesn't want to leave her teenage years with nothing to show for it but slushie-stained sweaters and a handful of atrocious and disturbingly inappropriate nicknames (not to mention an embarrassing display of pornographic pictures plastered throughout the stalls of the girls' bathroom). It simply won't do.

Perhaps she's being a tad melodramatic (just reassurance she was born to take the stage), but lately, she's beginning to realize that very few aspects of her life exist outside of glee club. Like, _none_ to be exact. And even though it's been true for – well, practically forever – it's a fact that has recently become quite daunting.

It's not that she doubts her desire or ability (she feels foolish even thinking it) to become the star she's always known she would (her middle name isn't Barbra for nothing). That's never been a question. What she does fear, however, is that she's allowed her future to dictate her past and present. And if so, then how many opportunities, relationships, and experiences have slipped through her fingers so carelessly?

Broadway is her future – don't get her wrong. But maybe it's not her _entire_ future. Maybe it's just a piece of some gigantic, beautiful puzzle that she's never even considered exists. Maybe there is more to her than anyone's ever cared to think (_especially_ herself).

* * *

Winter break is somehow excruciatingly long, and yet ends too quickly. It probably has to do with the fact that she is simultaneously anxious and apprehensive to see him again.

It's been over two weeks since he left her stranded in the Christmas tree lot (to be fair, she _had_ been trying to seduce him into forgiving her), and now that school has resumed, she's curious to see where they stand. Perhaps it's a tad naïve of her to hold on to hope that things between them aren't really over, but she's Rachel and he's Finn and it just doesn't add up that they are actually through. They just can't be. She won't accept it.

_She won't._

The problem is, though, she wants him to be happy. She really, _really_ does. More than anything in the world, in fact. She just doesn't want it to be without her. She wonders if that's selfish (she secretly knows it is), but all she can think is how content she is when they're together and how wrong it feels when they're not (she hopes he feels the same).

A few times, she'd contemplated showing up at his house unannounced in order to avoid having him say no at her request to visit him (she later, thankfully, came to her senses after she realized facing rejection in person would be an even harder pill to swallow). So, once she'd fully given up on bothering/stalking him (she scoffs at her own thoughts – Rachel Berry _does not_ stalk others; they stalk _her_), she'd called up Kurt and a few of the other glee club members in hopes of finding some solace in friends (or whatever they perceived her as).

To be honest, she hadn't been optimistic that anyone would actually accept her proposal to interact outside of rehearsals. Sure, there'd been those rare times during the summer that she'd spent shopping with Mercedes, Tina, and Kurt, but for the most part, her time was spent solely dedicated to Finn. And as lovely as that had been, she's now able to put the last few months into perspective and understand that this is yet another example of how their relationship isn't (ugh, _wasn't_) perfect.

Why aren't they (weren't they) perfect?

But more importantly, why does she find it so difficult to define herself outside of that relationship? Why hasn't she tried harder at making others (especially for times like these)?

She thinks this might be her greatest downfall – putting everything she has to offer into one relationship. Because as wonderful and romantic as it appears in the movies, real life is kind of a… _bitch_ (goodness, it actually does feel quite nice to use profanity every once in a while).

Maybe – _just maybe_ – she should've tried harder. To make more friends. To let Finn know just how badly it stung every time he didn't stand up for her. To explain why it _did_ make a difference that he'd slept with Santana and not Quinn. To make herself happier.

Maybe. But 'maybe' doesn't matter now.

Because now, it's _over_.

* * *

Once, when he was seven, he'd stumbled upon a few boxes in the basement while helping his mom with her annual spring cleaning (she'd said something about appreciating all the stuff women did for men, but he hadn't really understood what she was getting at). He'd freaked when he realized most of the items had belonged to his father. And even though he was the man of the house, he'd felt so overwhelmed with anger and sadness that he'd started crying uncontrollably (God, this is an emasculating story). When his mother later found him curled up into a ball and sobbing into an old army helmet, she'd simply taken him into her arms and whispered, "Time heals all wounds. I promise you, baby."

Sometimes, he's not sure why she'd told him that. He thinks it's probably because he'd been so young at the time, and all she'd wanted was to comfort her only kid (maybe even convince herself it's true). Because the thing is, even though he'd like for it to be true, he's pretty sure it's just a load of crap that people say to make other people feel better.

Even so, he tries to tell himself that it's the same with Rachel. That with time, he'll eventually just get over her. Get over how good she used to make him feel about himself. Get over her shiny hair, her short skirts, and knee high socks. Get over the picture of Puck's tongue plunging down her throat as she lets out a low moan.

Fuck.

He's got to stop doing this to himself.

He's got to just _move the hell on_.

But he can't, and as much as he wants to, he also kinda doesn't want to either. Because yeah, moving on would be totally awesome 'cause maybe then it won't feel like his chest is caving in every time he tries to breathe and he won't have to remind himself not to text her every time he sees _Grease_ playing on television. But then what? Then he'll just feel nothing, which sounds sorta nice 'cause it means he might not wanna cry all the time, but it really freaks the hell out of him to think he can have no emotions at all. He's just not sure he's that kind of guy (he's pretty sure months of dating Rachel have made it impossible for him to feel nothing).

It makes absolutely no sense, but then again, nothing involving girls has ever been easy for him to grasp. He's got, like, a whole list worth of stuff he still doesn't get about Rachel (she can recite just about any line from _Oklahoma,_ but take a few days to teach her the fundamentals of baseball and she still doesn't understand why it's called a 'home run' if you're "just running to another white square" as she'd put it; in her defense, she'd only made it about half a block down the street before realizing her mistake).

He can't help it. He grins at the memory. No matter how much it hurts to remember a time when things didn't totally suck, it really won't do him much good to pretend otherwise. She's messed him up, yes, but Finn can admit that he's definitely been no saint. There's no doubt in his mind that part of their problems stem from her insecurities. And some of those insecurities have resulted because of him. Others, even, may have been strengthened.

It's not like he's excusing what she did. She was so ridiculously wrong and selfish for fucking them over like that. They could've been a part of something special. Hell, they _had _been a part of something special (he thinks, at least). But all the thinking he's been doing for the past few weeks has forced him to at least acknowledge some of the mistakes he'd made during their relationship.

Like, it's so not cool that he'd kissed her _twice_ while dating Quinn (though, she'd been anything but a sweet and faithful girlfriend, he figures that was at least partly due to his poorly hidden interest in Rachel; maybe he _is_ catching on to this whole understanding girls nonsense). And he'd been a total dick for seducing her back into the club and then lying to her about it for his own benefit. But even now, he thinks none of that can compare to the insanely arrogant and douche-y move he'd made when he'd dumped her for Brittany and Santana. Because he just knows that's why she's never been able to fully trust him again.

Because when it comes down to it, he'd chosen other girls over her. And not just any girls. He'd chosen the girls who'd been a constant source of torture for her. And then he'd gone and slept with one of them. Someone so polar opposite of Rachel that he kinda can't believe it actually happened.

And that's how he finally realizes why it _does_ matter that it was Santana and not Quinn.

* * *

A week into the new semester, they still haven't spoken. Not once. Not even a glance.

She certainly hadn't held high expectations at the end of the break, since the only time they'd happened to see one another was in the cereal aisle at the supermarket. He'd literally run into her, nearly knocking her to the ground but managed to grab onto her arm before any damage could be done (she'd forgotten how clumsy he could be). The moment recognition registered in his eyes, she knew to say as little as possible. Not that he'd given her much of an opportunity. He'd nervously mumbled a few incoherent words and brushed past her hastily, dropping his cereal to the floor.

It kind of feels like he dropped her heart along with it.

* * *

For the first time in McKinley High history, the football team has somehow earned a spot in the state championship. Somehow, a group of guys who'd only managed a single pathetic win the year before (which was, oddly enough, largely due to a song about being a single woman and rubbing it in some guy's face – seriously, they'd been a complete joke) are now in the hunt to become Ohio state's number one football program.

And it's all because of Coach Bieste.

She's, like, totally awesome. And actually kinda sweet. You know, when she's not threatening to burn the hair off of their legs if one of them is late for practice or making the team run so many suicides that Finn wishes he hadn't eaten at all that month. So, yeah, she's really tough on them and pretty much scares the crap out of anyone with a beating heart (so, just minus Coach Sylvester). But Bieste is a thousand times better than Coach Tanaka had ever been, and if Finn could handle him in those shorts, then Bieste is a welcomed change.

So, it's safe to say that he trusts any and all decisions she makes. Except this.

Because Bieste cannot be serious when she introduces the team to its three newest members: _Tina, Mercedes, and Rachel._ She goes on and on about too many players who've failed to keep up their GPA, costing them their eligibility for the big game (he just thanks Grilled Cheesus he's somehow not one of them).

None of the girls look pleased with the arrangement, but it's obvious that the smallest of the trio is the most uncomfortable. She's practically hidden between the other two, kind of like she's hoping no one will notice her (and by no one, he means himself). The rest of the guys have yet to say anything, probably because they're all thinking the same thing he is. _We. Are. So. Screwed._

Of course, Puck being the jackass that he is, opens his mouth first. "Coach, this is total garbage!"

"Watch it, Puckerman," Bieste warns with a danger in her voice that commands silence. "You're still on thin ice after your shenanigans earlier this year, so don't give me any reason to bench you."

Puck snickers like an idiot. "Right, that way if you bench me, then at least we can bring in Berry over there. I'm sure she'd make a great backup."

The guys laugh at his ass-tastic joke, and Rachel winces in embarrassment. Finn's surprised at how badly he wants to defend her honor but decides to keep his mouth shut. Defending her will just complicate things too much. Plus, he doesn't want to give Bieste any reason to put Sam in over him.

Yet another example of the problems in their relationship.

"One more word out of you, Puckerman," Coach Bieste warns as she moves right up to Puck's smug face, daring him to so much as breathe. "And _you'll_ be lucky if _you're_ the backup for Ms. Berry. Understood?" Finn bites back a laugh. Puck nods furiously, and Bieste responds, "Good. Ten laps around the field. _Now_."

Puck stalks off onto the track, glaring at Rachel when she sticks her tongue out at him. "Serves you right," Finn sees her mouth to him. He hates the idea of any interaction between the two, but in this case, he can't help but smile. About time somebody stood up for Rachel.

When he looks at her again, she's staring back at him with a question in her eyes. It's the same one he's asking himself.

Why hadn't _he_ been the one to defend her?

* * *

"You really suck at this, you know."

It's fitting, really, that he's the first person to whom she speaks during her brief period on the team. Of course, his greeting is anything but hospitable, but what can she expect from him? Their relationship has always been of this manner, and she supposes it would be silly of her to assume otherwise.

"Yes, well, some of us perform poorly in athletics," she begins as she re-ties one of the laces on her cleats (God, she misses her penny loafers), "Others face the daily struggle of remaining outside the walls of the state juvenile and delinquency center." She gives a sarcastic smile as she says, "Guess we've all got to learn to deal with something, huh?"

He frowns for only a second before giving her a grin that says _touché._

"Not bad, Berry. Maybe you've got some fight in you, after all. We'll need all that we can get on Friday."

She's horrified at the possibility that she might actually have to step foot on the field come the night of the championship. In case anyone hasn't noticed, not only is she 5 foot 1 on a good day, but she also has the hand-eye coordination of a blind man missing both arms (goodness, speaking to him causes her to have the most offensive thoughts).

"Is there anything else you need from me, Noah? Aside from a good laugh at the expense of my obvious athletic shortcomings." Her patience is slowly waning after a long day of school and an embarrassing first day at practice. If the physical exhaustion she's experiencing from hours of running drills doesn't kill her, then surely the ridicule that her "teammates" have in store for her will.

To her surprise, his usual smirk and droll remarks falter.

"Just thought I'd be a good teammate, and see how your first practice went." He shrugs his shoulders. "Or whatever the fuck it is that nice people do."

"Language, Noah!" She swats him in the arm.

Puck rolls his eyes, but laughs at the look of indignation she's wearing. "Jeez, Berry. Don't get your granny panties all in a bunch. It's just a word, it's not gonna spread cancer or nothin'."

"Goodness, well of course not. That's the most ludicrous suggestion I've ever heard. I simply won't condone the use of such foul language. It's offensive and quite unnecessary, and it fosters violence as well – "

"Okay, okay, okay. You win." He says quickly in an effort to cut her off. The look of irritation on his face silences her. "Just please. _Stop. Talking_."

"Just so we're clear, I wasn't attempting to win anything – "

"RACHEL!"

"Fine, I'm sorry. I'll make a mental note to never speak again. Everyone in glee will be thrilled." She shouts dramatically and stomps over to the bench to grab her things. Practice has just ended, and she wants nothing more than to finally get the heck off of campus and change into clothing that doesn't give her a constant wedgie.

As she turns to head towards the gym, he grabs her arm softly. "Wait. Just – wait."

She can't imagine what more there is to say between them. The last few weeks have ripped away all of her strength, and she's fighting every minute to hold it together. To keep from falling apart in front of anyone. _Everyone_.

"What Noah?" Her voice breaks slightly as she repeats. "_What_?"

A moment of silence passes as he continues to cling to her arm, watching intensely as the emotions play across her face. So many emotions he probably loses count. And then, finally, "I'm sorry."

It's all the words she needs. Anything more would be unnecessary, would simply be an attempt to provide superfluous language in place of what really needs to be said. So, for the first time in her life, Rachel Berry is relieved to receive a two-word apology.

With an appreciative nod, she lets one last thought hang over them.

"The better person stopped us that day."

She leaves before giving him a chance to argue otherwise.

* * *

He thinks Puck might be the world's biggest douche bag as he watches his ex-best friend and ex-girlfriend talk in the middle of the field.

The dude totally screws him over _again_, and yet he's still got the balls to go up to the love of Finn's life (well, the _used-to-be love of his life_ anyway) and hang out with her like she's just some random girl who doesn't mean a damn thing. Like, does Puck seriously not care about anything but his own dick (he's going to ignore the fact that he's mentioned another guy's package within his last two thoughts)? Because even though it had sucked to see him and Quinn around one another last year after the big reveal, at least there'd been a reason for it. At least it hadn't been with _Rachel_.

At least he'd had Rachel (_Until you pushed her into some other guy's arms,_ the aggravating voice in his head reminds him. He fucking hates that voice.).

When he starts to make his way back to the locker room, he notices Puck staring him down. And suddenly, he just loses it.

"You know, if it weren't for the fact that you've now tried to bang _two _of my girlfriends, I'd have to question whether or not you've switched teams with all the gaping you're doing."

Puck rolls his eyes, replacing his look of boredom with a steely glare. "Don't flatter yourself, Finnessa. We both know I could do a hell of a lot better than you."

"Fuck off."

"Besides," the shorter boy begins. "It's funny, don't you think? That you and everyone else automatically assume that I'm the bad guy. Ever consider the fact that you pushed both of them into my – "

Finn punches him before he has the chance to finish. Until now, he thinks he's done a pretty good job of allowing the hurt – _the anger_ – to just run its course. To try and let it all go instead of going all Rambo on Puck's ass like he had last year (because honestly, the bruise he'd left on the guy's left eye had only provided him with so much satisfaction, and _shit_ had his fists hurt afterward!)

But now, a year and a whole new girlfriend later, Finn thinks knocking the crap out of this repeat offender might be just what he needs.

"You fucking bastard," he yells while simultaneously burying his fists into Puck's jaw. "You just couldn't stay away from her, could you? Just had to find another way to screw me over. God, you're so fucking selfish, I can't believe someone actually gave birth to you!"

Puck's eyes become lit with fury, and he quickly pins Finn to the ground in one swift motion, his own fists grating into the taller boy's cheek and then abdomen. They struggle with one another for another minute before Puck finally backs off, signaling the end of their physical assault.

"You want to blame me for my part in ending those relationships, then fine. I deserve that and probably more. But you're a fucking moron if you honestly believe that out of everyone involved in both cases, you're the only one who's innocent." Puck continues before he can interject. "Shut the fuck up, Hudson, we both know you're not exactly a contender for the world's greatest boyfriend." He dares him to say otherwise. And really, if he's being totally honest with himself and Puck, he knows it's true.

"Fine, but at least I didn't…" Finn slows as the words fall from his mouth, hearing the dishonesty, "cheat on either of them."

Puck gives him a hard stare, but to Finn's surprise, has the decency not to smirk. "Or lie to them?"

"We weren't together!" That's one subject he refuses to budge on. He knows what an ass he's made of himself with the whole Santana ordeal, he really does. But it's like, how can anyone actually compare that to Rachel intentionally kissing someone else out of – what – _revenge_? Because if that's the kind of person she is – someone who is so trapped in her own insecurities that hurting other people is her only way to cope or whatever – then maybe she's not the person for him. Maybe she and Puck are far more perfect for one another than he'd like to believe.

He's stunned when Puck doesn't immediately fire back with some sarcastic remark about how pathetic he sounds (to be fair, he kinda wouldn't blame the guy since even he is getting sick of his own whining). Instead, _Public Enemy Number One_ as Finn has rightfully dubbed him, frowns slightly with what looks like frustration in his eyes.

"Even you're not dumb enough to think that's what all of this is about."

Well, if that isn't the biggest backhanded compliment he's ever gotten in his life (how appropriate that it's from Puck).

"Mind telling me what it is about, then?" he asks with fake enthusiasm.

"Something tells me you already know. That you admitted it to yourself a while ago, but it's easier to say _fuck it_ and pretend like it's all to do with her and nothing with you," says Puck knowingly. Still, no smug expression or sarcasm in his voice. Just truth.

Truth that threatens the lies he's allowed himself to believe out of shame (because at any minute, it feels like he'll finally hit rock bottom).

"You're such a bastard."

Puck nods but adds, "Maybe. But you're a prick who can't own up to his own mistakes. At least I don't pretend to be someone that I'm not."

Without another word, he watches as his former best friend stalks off the field, letting his words sink in.

Rock bottom, indeed.

* * *

He notices her after the game ends.

She's standing on the side of the field, alone, and she wears a satisfied smile on her face while watching the rest of the team and school celebrate the biggest win in Lima, Ohio's history. He can't help but think she looks kind of pretty, which freaks him out a little because he can't remember the last time he's really taken an interest. Without giving it much thought, he finds his legs carrying him over to her. When she becomes aware of his presence, her smile falters and is replaced by a look of confusion (seriously, when was the last time they'd even spoken?)

"Hey," he starts off awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He figures the less he says, the less he can mess this up.

"Uh, hey?" It comes off as a question rather than a greeting. He's totally thrown her off guard. He can tell by the wary look in her eyes and the way her body tenses. But he's come to her for a reason, and even if neither wants to have this conversation, he figures they both owe it to one another.

He takes a deep breath before finally plunging in. "Why'd you do it?"

"Ex-excuse me?" Her voice stammers out, as if she's wondering whether he'd confused her for someone else.

"Why'd you cheat on me with Puck?" It's a simple question. With a not-so-simple answer.

She lowers her eyes, focusing them on the ground. He kind of wants to yell out _COWARD_ until he sees something wet fall and realizes she's crying.

Shit. He's _so not_ prepared for this.

"I don't know," she tells him softly but still not lifting her eyes to meet his. And suddenly, he doesn't care that she's crying; only that she's lying to him _again_. Hasn't she done enough of that already?

Hasn't _everybody_ done enough of that already (even himself, a small voice tells him – he says to shut it)?

Just as he's about to call her out on her bull, she moves her eyes to his face with a look of determination. "No, that's not true." He's surprised, but pleased that he won't have to force it out of her. He just needs to hear her say it. Say what he already knows. "I did what I did with Puck because… because he made me feel good about myself. Because he looked at me the way you always looked at Rachel when you didn't think I was looking." She pauses for a moment, trying to calm her shaking body. "Because he made me forget how badly it felt to not be enough for you."

The last part takes him by surprise. Everything else, he'd pretty much expected. He knows she'd been jealous and hurt that he'd paid more attention to Rachel while dating her, that she'd been frustrated by the way he'd handled his feelings for both girls. But it's never occurred to him that Quinn – _Quinn fucking Fabray_ of all people – had felt inadequate (mini high-five for his awesome vocabulary use).

So, like most other times in his life, Finn doesn't know what to say.

So, he doesn't say anything.

He kisses her instead.

* * *

She did this to herself.

It's all she can think after the game ends – when all of the players and the remaining fans in the bleachers have slowly filtered out. All except two.

The hollow feeling in her chest holds such great familiarity that it's as if it never left. Almost like last year never happened at all. The only difference is that, this time, the emptiness taking over is her own doing. Because she knows that without her selfishness – her insecurities – it would be she who was on the field kissing the most beautiful boy that the world has to offer.

But it's not, and she's not, and suddenly she hates herself for every little detail that makes her – well, _her_.

The gold stars and 8 month old singing competition trophies; the knee high socks and assortment of animal sweaters; her incessant need to always be right and the way she falls into a natural bounce while speaking; the way her nose is just slightly too large for traditional beauty and the fact that she wants everything too much.

Mostly, though, she hates that she doesn't hate any of these things at all.

* * *

"We need to talk."

She's startled by his unexpected presence and nearly slams into her locker as she opens it. To say she is surprised is an absolute understatement. She's downright floored. After all, the last time they'd spoken to one another, she'd unsuccessfully attempted to reclaim his heart, and he'd abandoned her in a Christmas tree lot. She can't help but consider there's so little and yet so much to be said.

"Um, sure, of course," she finally answers, still vaguely lost in her own thoughts.

With a quick nod, he says nothing but leads them both into the auditorium, away from the lingering students remaining in the hallway. Butterflies fill her stomach with anxiety, mostly because she suspects this conversation will be the last that they share for quite some time. At one point, early on in their breakup, she'd held on to her usual fierce optimism as if it was her lifeline. Letting go of that optimism – it was like finally letting go of him, _of them_. But she'd done it because she'd loved (_loves_) him.

"Look, there's something you should know," he begins, shoving his hands into his pockets like he always does when he's nervous. "And I think – it's just better if you hear it from me instead of someone else."

Before he even opens his mouth to speak, she knows what this is. It's his way of telling her that he's moved on, and she should too. It's a breakup after the breakup after the initial breakup (she gets it: _it's over_). And even though she's been expecting some version of this all weekend (though, quite honestly, she'd expected at least one snide remark by Santana at this point), it just plain sucks and no amount of understanding or acceptance can change that. She supposes that like everything else, it's just a part of life. Something she'll somehow get through someday (the elusiveness of that sentence leaves her more skeptical than ever).

"Friday night after the game, Quinn and I sort of kissed." He has the decency to look the least bit guilty, and Rachel can't help but wonder how one person "sort of" kisses another. She decides bringing this up is petty and a tad hypocritical. "Anyway, after that we started talking and uh – Jesus, the thing is we're together," he rushes out, "again."

The last part, she wasn't so much anticipating as she was dreading. It's not that she's entirely blown away by his declaration, just hurt. Even if she hasn't the right to be, Rachel's hurt that he's already found someone to replace her with while she's just barely mustered up the strength to look him in the eye.

"I see," is all she says. She doesn't, really, but it's not her place to say so.

Noticeably uncomfortable, Finn squirms under her intense gaze. So she looks away and faces the piano, wondering where the hell Brad is (he's always just around, and she finds his sudden lack of presence irritating). Just as she conjures up some fabrication about needing the auditorium for her own use, a thought crosses her mind, and she's puzzled as to why she hadn't wondered it before this moment.

"Sam," she blurts out without meaning to.

Again, Finn's eyes lower to the ground. Busted. "That's, uh, that's Quinn's deal."

Excuse her? _That's_ his explanation to her? That it's Quinn's problem, and he'll just – what – _stay out of it_?

"So, what you mean to say is, you'd rather not face the consequences of your actions because you know that what you did was reprehensible." As appalled as she is, she's surprised at how matter-of-fact her voice remains.

And suddenly, he's defensive, and she prepares herself for the scathing and irate comments that will undoubtedly follow. Because she knows him all too well to think he won't retaliate. Threaten his integrity and Finn will react like a mother protecting her children. It's one of the few characteristics about him that scares her.

"First of all, I find it pretty damn ironic for you of all people to call me a cheater. If that isn't the pot calling the kettle brown, then I don't know what is."

"Actually, it's the pot calling the kettle black, not brown," she corrects him.

"Whatever!" He throws his hands in the air, furious. "And secondly, stop correcting everything I say and using your big words that make you sound so, so – "

"Pretentious? Flamboyant?" She offers but quickly realizes she's made the same mistake again. This conversation has taken a serious turn in topics.

Finn's eyes squint in confusion. "Hold up, I never said you were gay, Rachel."

And somehow – despite all of the insults and ugly jabs they've thrown at one another, the heartaches and heartbreaks they've both received and given in the past few weeks – Rachel finds that small piece of her that can still laugh. And boy does it feel good.

"Uh, Rachel?" She hears Finn's uncertain voice in between her giggling. The look he's sending her screams _'you're a psycho'_, but she figures it's an improvement from _'you're a bitch'_.

"I-I'm," she takes a deep breath and wipes away a few stray tears, "s-sorry. It's just," another laugh escapes, "that's not what I meant," and now it's getting a bit ridiculous, "when I said flamboyant." Finally she's able to stop and meet his gaze. "I meant showy or flashy."

Understanding enters his features, followed by a light blush on his cheeks. "Oh, right. Awesome."

She immediately recognizes this as one of his _I'm-too-stupid-to-understand-anything_ moments and feels terrible about her reaction. Knowing him the way she does, she should've foreseen this moment from the start.

"Guess I really am as stupid as I look, huh?"

"Finn, please don't do this. Please don't do this thing where you berate yourself to death. You're better than that, and we both know it."

"Well, if I knew what the hell 'berate' even meant, then I guess I'd say thanks or something. But since I'm apparently too dumb to hold a conversation with you, why don't I save us both the trouble and –" but he doesn't get the chance to finish.

"You're right," she says, and he looks like he's just been slapped. "You're absolutely right. You are a complete and total moron. In fact, I'm not sure how you've made it all the way into the eleventh grade."

"Wh-what?" he stammers, stunned by her abrupt change in demeanor.

She folds her arms and explains. "Arguing against you has proven pointless, so I've decided to use a less sympathetic approach and give in to the pity party you've chosen to throw yourself. Happy?"

"Not exactly," he admits.

"Well that's just too damn bad," shouts Rachel as all of her patience unfolds at once. She's tried to go along with everything he's asked of her in the past month – tried to say the right things when spoken to and keep quiet when ignored. But this is the final straw.

She's Rachel Berry, and damn it, no one – not even Finn Hudson – will keep her down.

"I've been your punching bag for weeks now, and while I can now accept your inability to forgive me, I refuse to be further subjected to your constant whining."

She looks him dead in the eye.

"Just because you've given up on me doesn't mean you get to give up on yourself. I won't let you."

He opens his mouth to speak, but she's Rachel Berry, and no one steals her spotlight, so she holds up her hand to silence him.

"And it doesn't mean I've given up on us, either. Because I won't. Not now, _not ever_."

She needs him to understand this even if he can't quite accept it yet. Because she's means it more than anything in this world, and it's the only sure thing (aside from the inevitability of her future on Broadway) in her life.

He looks startled by her declaration but remains motionless and silent. Giving him one last, small smile, she says, "See you tomorrow," and exits the auditorium before waiting for a response.

Without really knowing how or why, she's once again filled with that fierce optimism for which she's known. And it doesn't matter that she'd kissed Puck or that he's with Quinn or that she'll never be the person everyone wants her to be. None of it matters because somehow someday they'll get through this something (the 'when' and 'how' aren't all that important). The only thing that matters is that they _will _move forward.

So, for now, she'll let him go – let him find his own way back to them. Because he deserves to figure it out on his own, figure out who _he_ is outside of this relationship. And she deserves the same.

As much as it pains her to admit it, she can't help but think that this is what they both need. Time to grow and learn from their mistakes, to develop into the people they're meant to be. Because right now, for whatever reason, they just don't fit – can't be all those things that the other needs.

So she'll wait.

After all, they're called happy endings, not happy middles.

_Well I can't explain why it's not enough, 'cause I gave it all to you.  
And if you leave me now, oh just leave me now.  
It's the better thing to do,  
It's time to surrender,  
It's been to long pretending.  
There's no use in trying,  
When the pieces don't fit anymore, Pieces don't fit here anymore._

_

* * *

_

Okay, so I totally can't take credit for the last line, 'cause as many of you probably know, it's pretty much a direct quote of Brad Falchuk, one of the show's creators. I just couldn't stop myself from somehow implementing it into the story, so sorry if that makes anyone angry (I give full credit to him for it). Hope it wasn't unbearably long or boring or unrealistic or any other cringe-worthy adjective. Again, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW… please ;)


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